


Of Panic Attacks and Family Reunions

by NicePumpkinSpice



Series: Of Sweet Memories and Guarded Moments [48]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicePumpkinSpice/pseuds/NicePumpkinSpice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn gets to meet Cullen's parents.  How will they react to their templar son being engaged to a mage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Panic Attacks and Family Reunions

“Up or down?” Evelyn asked Dorian while modeling the two possibilities for her hair.

“Up for starters. We have a half day of travel ahead. Your hair will be a tangled mess if you leave it to blow around all that time. Once we get in sight of South Reach, you can let it down.”

“Which outfit? I’d like to wear a dress or robe, but that isn’t practical for riding. Although if I wore a robe, that might scream, ‘Here comes a mage.’ So do I wear armor? That isn’t very friendly, but Maker knows what we’ll encounter on the road. All of my armor makes me look bulky. I don’t want their first impression to be that I’m fat.” 

“First off, you need to breathe. In through the nose and out through the mouth. That’s better. Take another deep breath. Good girl. Wear the samite and Dales laden wool. It looks lovely with your eyes and is quite flattering to your figure.” Dorian said evenly.

“Do I carry a staff? Which one? Or maybe no staff. Staves scream mage, too.” Evelyn’s throat was so tight from nervousness that her questions came out in a high pitched squeak.

Dorian put his fingers to his ears. “Whatever you do, don’t speak to them like that. I think you might shatter crystal. Of course you will have a staff with you, you **are** a mage, and a fine one at that. Perhaps just pick one that doesn’t have a human skull at the top. Those can be off putting to the masses.”

“But my favorite staff has a skull on it.”

“Then by all means take that one. Just don’t come crying to me when the mundanes give you the side eye,” Dorian said with evident frustration.

“You’re right. How about this one instead?” Evelyn held up a walnut staff with a polished marble ball at the end. Glowing runes stretched the length of the staff and a razor sharp blade adorned its tip.

“That one is better. The glowing corrupting runes add a sinister touch that I appreciate although I’m not sure what Mama Rutherford will make of them.” At Dorian’s remark, Evelyn’s breathing accelerated.

Cullen came in the tent to find her white faced and hyperventilating.   “Dorian, I asked you to come in here to help. She’s worse off than when I went to get you.” Cullen said with irritation. Placing his hands on Evelyn’s shoulders and staring into her eyes, he directed her to breathe slowly. She struggled to comply as her breaths shuddered in and out.

“I was teasing her to lighten the mood. It had a paradoxical effect. You have to admit it’s humorous. She storms a demon-filled fortress in the middle of the desert without batting an eye. Kills a dragon days ago, and her only concern was that it didn’t die fast enough to suit her. But get her within half a day’s journey of your family, and she can’t function.” 

Evelyn’s eyes flashed angrily. “Those... other... things... didn’t... matter. Not...like...this,” she gasped.

Cullen chuckled, “I think most of Thedas would disagree with your assessment that they didn’t matter. Today will go just fine. I promise. Pretend that we’re visiting dignitaries. You never fail to wrap them around your finger.” Cullen guided her to her cot and pressed her down to sit. “Put your head between your legs. You’re about to pass out.”

Evelyn complied but argued, “Not... myself... with dignitaries. Just Inquisitor... want ... your family... to like... me.”

“And they shall.” Cullen encouraged. Then Dorian added, “It’s impossible not to like you - assuming you’re breathing normally by then. Pale, clammy, and panting just isn’t a winning look for you.”

A crackle of electricity sparked around the top of the tent. “Shut up ... Dorian,” Evelyn said while her head was still between her knees.

“Ah! That’s the girl we all love. I prefer you feisty. I’ll bet Cullen does as well.” Dorian announced with a wink and then sauntered out of the tent.

Cullen sat down next to Evelyn and took her hand. “We’re nearly set to leave. My men are waiting to break down the tent. Why don’t we go outside and take a walk? I saw a variety of herbs nearby.”

Evelyn’s head popped up. “Herbs? Which kinds?”

Cullen smirked. Her love of herbology would be enough to distract her until she regained composure. “Elfroot, embrium, and another that I think might be prophet’s laurel.”

Evelyn’s pupils dilated at the mention of the last herb. Cullen knew he had her interest. “Prophet’s laurel? That is a very rare herb. In all my travels, I’ve only found two reliable places where it grows. Try as I might I can’t get it to bloom well at Skyhold either. Show me,” she directed.

Cullen took her hand and opened the tent flap. He signaled his men to finish clearing the camp while he walked her toward a shady glen a short ways from where they had stopped for the night. Evelyn looked around and then jumped up and down with delight when she saw Cullen had correctly identified the rare herb. Brandishing her pruning shears, Evelyn told Cullen to make sure to record this location on their map while she snipped and bundled the herbs. In less than an hour, Evelyn harvested two large bundles of prophet’s laurel as well as baskets of both embrium and elfroot. When she finished, her face was smudged with dirt and she had a few leaves stuck in her hair, but Cullen thought she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“Ready to go then, love?” he asked.

She wiped her shears off on the grass and conjured a fine stream of water to rinse her hands. “As ready as I’ll ever be, “ she replied with a brave smile.

*************************

Cullen’s parents lived on a small farm outside the village of South Reach that they shared with Cullen’s brother Andrew and his family. Before they reached the farm, Cullen directed his soldiers to set up camp. Although they had brought along friends as well as the soldiers, everyone agreed that it would be best for Cullen and Evelyn to first meet the Rutherford’s alone.

At the camp, Evelyn brushed through her hair. The day was humid, so it was starting to frizz. “Cullen, can I borrow some of your hair products?”

“What? I don’t use anything.” Cullen lied.

Evelyn placed her hands on her hips and said, “Really? Of all the things you could lie to me about you choose hair waxes?”

“I don’t use a hair wax.” Cullen interjected. “It makes my hair too stiff. I prefer a lotion. But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it until my dying breath.” He unlocked his trunk, dug down toward the bottom, and then handed her a small tube of something called Lovely Locks Hair Lotion. Evelyn stifled a laugh at the ridiculous name and put a dollop in her hand. “Careful,” Cullen cautioned. “It can make your hair look oily if you use too much.”

Evelyn massaged a small portion of the lotion in her hair and then brushed it through. “So do I have lovely locks now?” she teased while ruffling Cullen’s hair.

He growled. “I just finished fixing mine.”

“Yes, but your parents will be looking for their curly haired son. Besides I like it when you’re tousled. It reminds me of what you look like in bed,” she said in a sultry voice which made Cullen decide that perhaps his hair did not need to be restyled after all.

“All ready, then?” he asked. After her panic attack that morning, Cullen had worried that she might fall apart again, but she seemed completely relaxed. He was, however, becoming increasingly nervous.

They mounted their horses and rode the short distance to Cullen’s parents’ home. A sturdy looking woman stood in front of a modest house sweeping the porch vigorously. She wore a simple blue dress with a yellow apron tied around her waist. Her curly brown hair was cut into a short bob. Seeing Evelyn and Cullen approach, she dropped the broom and raced toward them with outstretched arms.

Cullen hopped off his horse and called out, “Mama!” Evelyn dismounted as well and took Cullen’s reins from him as he took off running. He quickly closed the distance between them and threw his arms around the woman. She hugged him tightly, relaxed her grip to search his face, and then resumed hugging him. Evelyn smiled to hear the chorus of “My sweet boy” and “I’ve missed you” that rolled from her lips.

Breaking the embrace, Cullen’s mother looked toward Evelyn. “And you must be Evelyn.” Before Evelyn could even register what was happening, Cullen’s mother had wrapped in her arms. “You’re a miracle worker to get my boy back to us. He hardly wrote before he met you, and now look at him standing right here after ten years.” Cullen’s mother began to get teary and returned to examining and embracing her son. Then out of nowhere she bellowed, “James! Andy! Cully is home!”

Cullen turned red as Evelyn mouthed, “Cully” to him. Sera would have a field day if she knew that Cullen’s family already used the nickname she had coined.

A tall, thin man with silver hair and golden brown eyes poked his head out of the barn. Evelyn knew without a doubt that he had to be Cullen’s father. Their mannerisms and faces were surprisingly similar. From what Evelyn could tell, Cullen’s mother had only contributed curly hair and a stocky build to his making. The rest of him was entirely James Rutherford. That thought was only solidified when Cullen’s father wiped his hands on a towel and then grabbed the back of his neck nervously before walking over. 

Evelyn hadn’t yet spoken with Cullen’s father, but she already loved him. He came over to them using the same languid stride Cullen chose around Skyhold. He shook Cullen’s hand in greeting and then pulled him into a tight embrace. Still without speaking, he turned his amber brown eyes toward Evelyn and then back to Cullen. A mere raise of his father’s eyebrow reminded Cullen of his manners.

“Pop, this is the Inquisitor, Lady Evelyn Trevelyan. Evelyn, my father, James Rutherford.” Cullen’s father studied Evelyn’s face and then gave her a warm smile. Regarding Cullen’s father, Evelyn could imagine how Cullen would look in thirty odd years. The Rutherford men aged quite well it would seem.

Evelyn reached out her hand to shake Cullen’s father’s, but he instead bowed and kissed her hand. _That’s where Cullen’s manners come from as well._ She thought as the elder Rutherford finally spoke. “I’m pleased to meet you, my lady. Martha has been beside herself since the raven arrived telling us you’d be visiting. I was afraid she’d wear the stain off our furniture with all her polishing and dusting,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

He reached for their horses’ reins and began to amble back toward the barn while Cullen’s mother visibly puffed up and glared at her husband. _There’s his mom’s temper, and his dad is headed to the barn already. Cullen described them perfectly._

Evelyn attempted to calm Cullen’s mother by saying, “I like cleaning, too. It helps me think.” 

Martha Rutherford looked pleased but puzzled. “Most nobles aren’t much for cleaning.” 

“Evelyn is quite unlike most nobles, Mama.” Cullen said with obvious pride.

“So she is.” Martha agreed then yelled, “Andrew, your brother is home. Get out here!”

Evelyn startled some when Cullen’s mother roared. _He did warn you that his family was very loud._ She reminded herself when she caught Cullen smirking at her alarm.

The door to a neighboring house opened up. It was larger than Cullen’s parents’ home, but still modest. Evelyn guessed that Cullen’s older brother Andrew lived there with his family. A wiry man with curly brown hair and blue eyes came toward them. Except for his thin frame, Andrew was his mother’s child. He bellowed, “Cullen!” at the top of his lungs before barreling into her army’s commander. Crashing into Cullen’s breastplate, he yelped, “No fair wearing armor,” before hugging his brother warmly. Andrew’s wife and children had followed him out the door, but stood at a distance surveying their guests.

“So, brother, is this the one then?” Andrew said while grinning at Evelyn.

“Indeed, she is.” Cullen replied.

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d bring a woman home. We thought you’d married the Chantry.” Andrew teased then added, “Of course, getting engaged to Andraste’s Herald is a step up I’d suppose.”

Evelyn felt uncomfortable at that comment. She had never claimed to be the Herald and knew without a doubt that she was not after regaining her memories of the Conclave. Cullen intervened, “Evelyn isn’t fond of that title. In fact, she has never accepted it no matter how many times it is used.”

“Why not?” Andrew posed the question directly to Evelyn.

“Because I’m not Andraste’s herald, I’m just a person trying to set things right.” she replied truthfully hoping that her answer wouldn’t offend.

To her surprise, Andrew smiled widely. “I like her already, Cully. Are you sure she’s a Marcher? Seems as honest as a Ferelden to me.” With that, Andrew gestured for his wife and children to come closer.

“Cullen, you remember Bea. I wish you had been able to make our wedding. The Blight made travel difficult, though.” _His family thinks the Blight kept him from visiting. Has he never told them anything of what happened at the Circle?_ Evelyn wondered while noticing Cullen’s disquiet at the mention of that time in his life.

Bea stepped forward and nodded at Cullen and Evelyn. “A pleasure to see the both of you.” She was an incredibly tiny woman - almost elven in size - with wheat blond hair and blue eyes. A smattering of freckles across her face told of long work in the sun alongside her husband. She kneeled down and picked up a toddler that was clinging to her leg.

“Cullen meet Cullen,” Bea said with a smile. “Your brother insisted that we name him after you. I argued that you might want to save the name for your own child, but he had laughed at the idea of your ever marrying or having a family.” Bea looked at her husband then said, “I told you not to give up on him. See?”

Toddler Cullen had chubby cheeks and legs so covered in baby fat that Evelyn wondered how he walked. A thin strand of drool trailed between his hand and his mouth as he reached up and pulled on his mother’s nose. Bea gently removed his hand which he happily started sucking on instead. Without hesitating, she handed him to Cullen who looked terrified.

“I’ve never held a baby. Maker, I might drop him. You should take him.” Cullen passed his namesake to Evelyn like he was a hot potato. To Evelyn’s delight, the toddler snuggled up to her and begin to play with the buttons on her coat. Bea looked amused at the interchange and then urged her two other children to come closer.

From what Evelyn could tell, the girls were twins or born very close together. They looked five or six years old and had curly blond hair. When they spoke their hellos, however, Evelyn realized they must be older just slightly built like their mother. Andrew introduced the girls, “And these are our twins - Haley and Beth.” 

“My word. They look just like you at the same age, Bea.” Cullen said with surprise. “I hope they are less troublesome. You were always dragging Andrew and me into mischief.”

“That’s not how I recall things.” Bea retorted, “You were the mastermind even though you were younger. Always finding new ways to torment Mia. That is when you weren’t pretending to be a mage.”

Evelyn giggled recalling how Cullen had once taken her staff and pretended to cast spells with it. She could easily imagine him as a young boy running around Honnleath doing the same. He had never mentioned Bea, but it was obvious they were dear childhood friends as well as in-laws. She wondered if there might be a story as to why the pretty blond ended up with Andrew rather than Cullen.

At Bea’s mention of mages, Haley brightened. “Papa says that you’re a mage. Can you light things on fire?”

Evelyn froze. She had expected that someone would mention her being a mage, but not so early in their visit. She stuttered her reply, “I can start fires... but I would never do it without cause.”

Haley’s face fell in disappointment, “Oh, I was hoping you’d show us some tricks.”

Evelyn was taken aback. She had assumed the girl would be fearful of rather than interested in her magical abilities. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” she replied cautiously looking at Cullen with pleading eyes.

Rather than discouraging his niece, Cullen said, “Why don’t you let us get settled a bit first? I’m sure if you ask nicely Evelyn will show you some magic later.”

Evelyn wanted to protest, but the thrilled looks on the twins’ faces told her that doing so would only crush them. Her mouth made a tight smile as she tentatively agreed by saying, “Maybe later...”

Baby Cullen started pulling on her hair, and Evelyn struggled to free it from his surprisingly strong grasp. Bea came to the rescue untangling Evelyn’s hair from her son’s slobbery fingers and then taking the toddler back to her hip. “I have to wear my hair up all the time anymore, or he’d yank it out. Enjoy wearing yours down for as long as you can. Once the children come, you can forget about it.”

Evelyn felt her breath catch at the mention of children. She wasn’t prepared for that possibility. Not yet. Maybe never.

An awkward silence passed which Cullen’s mother broke by saying, “You’ll want to see your rooms and wash up before supper. Mia, Sarah, and their families will be coming tomorrow after morning chores. I’m making your favorites for supper, Cully. Evelyn, do you cook? Cullen looks too thin.”

“I’m afraid that I don’t cook well. It wasn’t a skill I learned in the Circle. I can make some simple camp recipes, but that is about it.” 

Cullen added, “She bakes wonderful cookies, though. Almost as good as yours.”

Martha Rutherford was pleased with Cullen’s compliment. “I’ll show you how to make some of his favorites, Evelyn. The Inquisition isn’t feeding him well enough to suit me.”

Evelyn nodded her agreement and was glad his mother hadn’t seem him three months earlier when he was at his gauntest. He had regained a significant amount of weight and muscle since then, but his cheeks were still hollow. If his mother thought his weight was due to poor diet, Evelyn guessed his family didn’t know about Cullen’s decision to stop taking lyrium. What of his life had he shared with them? She resolved to ask him if she had a moment alone with him.

As Cullen suspected, his parents expected Evelyn and him to sleep separately. Evelyn was given a small guest room on the first floor of the house while Cullen had a cot in a loft over his parent’s room. When shown to her room, Evelyn mouthed “spider check” to Cullen to remind him of his promise to clear any eight-legged horrors before she encountered them. His parents mercifully left them alone to unpack. 

“It’s going well so far... right? I mean... you like them. Yes?” Cullen was stammering and clutching his neck while inspecting the room for spiders.

“Your family is wonderful, Cullen. I’m a bit nervous about cooking with your mother. You’ll remember my doomsday scenario that involved inadvertently setting fire to the kitchen.”

“If she’s sharing her recipes, she adores you,” he said while wrapping his arms around her waist.

Evelyn put her arms around his neck. “I think she would like anyone who brought you home to her. How much do they know about what’s happened to you, Cullen?”

“As little as possible, and that is the way I’d prefer it to remain.” Cullen said while dropping his arms from her waist. “No spiders. You will be able to sleep in peace.”

“I’d sleep better with you beside me,” Evelyn flirted and then turned red when she realized Cullen’s father was in the doorway. He gave a bemused half smile and then announced, “The horses are settled. They remind me of the forders a man named Dennet breeds outside Redcliffe.”

“The very same.” Evelyn said happy for the change of subject. “Dennet serves as the Inquisition’s horsemaster, now.”

Cullen’s father folded his arms, “Impressive that you convinced him to join. He’s a tough bargainer. I’ve bought a few horses from him before, and I always left feeling he’d wrangled every coin out of me possible.”

Evelyn laughed, “If you knew the number of errands he sent me on to secure his support, you’d know that I fared little better.”

James Rutherford chuckled and then turned toward his son. “Cullen, I’d like a word with you,” his father said in a more serious tone. “I’ll be in the barn. Change out of that armor and into something useful.” 

Cullen blanched. His father wasn’t one for small talk, and if he wanted to speak with Cullen in the barn it was because he wanted to discuss something out of Cullen’s mother’s ear shot. “I’ll be there in a minute, Pop.” Cullen said as cheerfully as he could manage. He didn’t want to make Evelyn nervous.

“I’m off to cooking lessons. Wish me luck.” Evelyn whispered to Cullen before heading toward the kitchen.


End file.
